


baby, you're bad

by lemoninagin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bars and Pubs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Cigarettes, Dirty Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, Frottage, Galaxy Garrison, Garrison Klance, Glove Kink, Grinding, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pining Lance (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Underage Drinking, aka how many times can i write garrison klance without it getting old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 13:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoninagin/pseuds/lemoninagin
Summary: In this moment, there’s only two things that Lance forces himself to know or care about Keith.One, he’s hot.Two, he’s on the dance floor alone.





	baby, you're bad

**Author's Note:**

> why do i love garrison klance so much that i have to write fifty different stupid aus for it
> 
> why

 

Saturday nights always find them venturing off-campus.

Tonight, their designated place of mischief is a seedy sort of part bar, part club, part hotbed of sexual tension with a general air of depravity. It wasn’t a style Lance usually scoped out, but he overheard from a few of his Garrison classmates that it was the only place around where they wouldn’t need a fake ID in order to get properly wasted.

Once they arrive, gazes flickering up to the crooked sign and billowing smoke that creeps like a gritty ooze through the door, needless to say Hunk isn’t particularly impressed by his choice.

Which he voices loudly, almost walking away as he grows anxious to find a place with less suspicious crowds lingering outside, but Lance is threatening to leave him alone and heading in before he can take off.

Hunk reluctantly follows, considering the buses won’t be heading this way for nearly the rest of the night. The guy can be a twitchy fellow at times, but Lance figures it’s nothing a few beers in his system can’t solve.

He won’t back down. Not after he spent all that time trying to find the best way to sneak out.

This night is his night to shine.

No one ID’s them when they walk through the door, and that’s the way Lance heard it’s always been. Not a single person gives them a second glance, too preoccupied with nursing their drinks and having fun to care about some underage students. Instantly, he can even spot a few other cadets he knows from various classes.

The music bumps, pulsing, turning with a powerful bass that vibrates deep in his chest.

With hungry eyes, Lance watches the people he passes, trying to memorize faces that attract his attention. Outside of getting wrecked, he came here with one serious purpose, and one purpose only.

He passes girls that shake their hips and bat their eyes at him. He passes girls wearing crop tops and cut off jeans, girls with long hair they’re flipping back as they run their hands along the smooth curves of their bodies.

Girls with pixie cuts plastered to their foreheads with sweat. With tattoos zigzagging across their skin, their captivating blotches of ink shimmering under the backlit lights. Girls with hooded eyes and lean, defined legs that move to the beat like their feet have memorized the melodies within them.

They smile back when he smiles. Giggle when he shoots them finger guns. A few even acknowledge his existence for once, with a wave and an almost beckoning presence towards him.

It’s a veritable paradise of hotness. He pulls Hunk along to the bar and doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

A few beers downed, and as he predicts, Hunk begins loosening up.

But by their fourth drink, Hunk tells him in a hushed voice, “Dude, I don’t think these are the types of people you want to go home with,” because he just doesn’t know how to party.

“Oh, Hunk, buddy, my guy.”

Lance flashes a grin, waggling his fingers at some pretty thing across the counter who flushes and looks away. He brings the bottle to his lips, relishing in the following burn that slides down his throat.

“I think I do,” he sighs.

Nothing short of love struck. Nothing short of longing to feel someone’s soft skin beneath his fingertips.

Alcohol sloshes out of Hunk’s cup and over his hand as he observes the room with raised brows and a shake of his head, laughing at him like he’s told a funny joke.

Easily distractible, Hunk spots some engineering friends he knows, and waves them over. Lance lets him venture off by himself, because he’s here for other things, and those are things he needs to address while he still has this buzz of newfound confidence thrumming under his skin.

The booze is working quick and hot in his veins. Creating a pleasant fluttering sensation in his stomach, like he’s free falling, like the ground keeps tipping out from beneath him.

Pushing off from his seat at the bar, he sets his grin out to the crowd.

He lets himself get lost within the gyrating bodies, within the limbs that reach out and touch him as he sways along to tunes he’s never heard before. Dancing, grinding up against anyone that will have him.

Girls pass him along to guys, who pass him to other girls and guys. He’s ping-ponging back and forth between them all, uncaring exactly what sort he ends up with at this point. There wasn’t much in his code of getting laid that felt the need to be too picky, and the men who sidle up to him aren’t harsh on the eyes by any means.

He flits around aimlessly, rubbing up against a girl with dark brown hair and eyes, who takes his hand and spins him like a top. Giggling, leaning away from reach as he lands smack into some guy with a sharp buzz cut and arm muscles that are bigger than his face.

Flirtatiously, Lance wraps his arms around the guy's neck, allowing the stranger to grab him by the hips and tug him deeper, farther into the mass of sweat-sheened bodies and noise.

The crowd heaves and breathes and parts a path. Pushes him to and fro in waves that crash over the thudding of his heart. A path that opens like magic, like the cresting of a tsunami frozen from consuming him.

That’s when he spots him.

A familiar face, a familiar body. The messy, dark hair he knows from staring at it far too often, the seamless mass of black clothing sticking to flawless, creamy skin.

What he isn’t expecting, is the lewd rolling of minutely curved hips, the uncaring attitude for who may be watching.

For who may recognize him.

The boy's delicately gloved hands are lifted in the air, running back through his hair as the beat drops, and he pivots around on his heel. With a devastatingly filthy shake of his ass, he’s smoothing his fingers over his chest now, teasing them along the waistband of his low slung jeans. Grinning in a way that Lance has never seen before, a flash of cocky teeth over his shoulder that sets his pulse racing all the more harder.

Lance shakes his head, feeling as if he’s crawling out from some strange fever dream.

This man of his dreams is undoubtedly one Keith Kogane, the mysterious top fighter pilot in their grade.

And he _wants_.

Lance pushes his way forcefully through the crowd, making a beeline for the center of the room. He knows he shouldn’t, knows he can’t aim this far out of his league, but his head spins when Keith’s eyes finally land on him.

Fluttering his lashes back, like he knows he was being watched.

That’s when Lance is gone. Those dark irises pull him in, those full, pink lips curling into a devious smirk that tugs him the rest of the way over. Like his feet are moving on autopilot to their destiny.

It's criminal that he's alone. Absolutely criminal.

Keith considers him with a cant of his neck and another low dip of his hips. Running one hand through his hair again, he beckons Lance with the other, finger crooked in a come hither motion.

He doesn't skip a beat. The impressive coordination of his legs as they bend, the hypnotizing sway of his hips, never ceases.

Lance can't believe his luck. Keith is _never_ free—he spends most of his time either hanging around Takashi Shirogane, being swarmed by admirers, or fucking off somewhere where no one can ever find him. The majority of the time, it's the latter.

The fact that he's paying attention to him is incomprehensible.

But Lance isn't going to question it. Doesn't care at all as he comes up close behind Keith, presses their hips together, and sharply grinds against him. He’s not going to act like this isn’t going to be his last stop, because he’s aiming high tonight.

His hands are more timid, unsure where they should go when there’s so many good places to potentially touch. Luckily, Keith makes the decision for him, pulling on his arms until he gets the message to wrap them around his waist, in a move of striking dominance that has Lance feeling more than a little weak at the knees.

“You're way too beautiful to be dancing alone,” Lance whispers into his ear, ghosting his breath along its sweet edge, voice somewhat shaky but otherwise about ten times smoother than he's normally capable of.

“I'm not,” comes Keith's short reply, at the same time he pushes back against the hardness starting to form in Lance's jeans. His tone is laced with a breathless, dangerous edge. “You’re here, aren't you?”

Keith lays his head against the crook of his shoulder, arching into him, a good amount of his weight set back on his chest. They move in tandem, a wide sweep of their joined hips as the beat of the music dips low, grows slower. Swaying from side to side, Lance nudges a knee in between his legs at some point within the turning melody, which Keith grinds down on.

Slowly, working himself upon it, like he’s sinking onto a thick cock. Glancing back with those smokey eyes and that smile which makes Lance’s heart lurch up to his throat, and throw any remaining caution to the wind.

Lance threads a hand into his hair as Keith bends forward to push and grind on his crotch, appreciating the sight in so many ways.

The breathtaking arch of his spine, how his neck snaps so beautifully. The curve of his rounded, firm ass rubbing him in all the right ways. The feel of his soft, silky hair clenched between his fist. His loose tank top is slipping up, revealing a strip of milky skin that Lance would love to run his tongue across.

Snapping, rolling his hips experimentally into him, Lance can hear the lowest of groans escape Keith’s lips. From afar, he’s sure they look like they’re trying to fuck through their clothes, and well—that isn’t what he’s far off from doing. If he could, he’d strip him right there, for everyone to see.

Take him, here on this dance floor, with the lights and the noise beating heavy upon their bare skin.

Blinded with lust, Lance is momentarily caught off guard when Keith slips out from under him. Reaches a hand to lead him from his hair, then pulls away and just _drops_ to the floor, sliding backwards through the window of his legs.

Then he’s behind _him_.

“Hey, you’re pretty good at this,” Lance gasps when that smile presses into his neck.

Warm hands come to rest at his hips, moving them back and forth. Quick and rough undulations, enough that Lance can feel Keith’s own interest pressing against his backside.

Keith drags his left palm from his hip around to his chest, right as the music reaches a shaky crescendo of sound. Resting it over Lance’s erratically racing heart, like he’s trying to reach it through his shirt.

“Thank the whiskey,” he murmurs back, grazing teeth against the shell of his ear.

Lance covers over him with his right hand, lacing their fingers together, feeling the spike of alcohol give him the courage to crack their joined arms like a whip.

He tugs. Keith follows, laughing as Lance spins him around a few times. When he stops, Lance dips into his space first, shimmying his shoulders, popping them up and down.

Keith gets the message to shake his own shoulders forward as Lance leans back, but he does it more apprehensively, like he isn’t used to having a partner. Almost adorably uncertain, with his brows furrowed and the movement slightly stunted.

Now facing each other, Lance can see the endearing flush that sears his cheeks, can see the way he tries to escape from his gaze.

“Not bad yourself,” Keith breathes, eyelids low and peering through the fringe of his hair as Lance pulls him in close.

“Thank my skill.” Laughing, Lance winks as he waggles four fingers into the air. “Also, four beers.”

Keith smells nice, like smoke interspersed with wildflowers. The music is waning into something more evenly tempered, softer, with a deeper, sensual bass. Lance lands one hand upon Keith’s waist, while Keith one-ups him by unabashedly groping his ass.  

Their other hands stay connected. Lance guides them, stepping forward and back, swinging side to side in some depraved form of a waltz as they roll their torsos together. Keith tucks his face into his chest, sighing, squeezing him gently.

Lance lets himself moan, loud enough that he knows Keith will hear. He’s painfully, achingly hard in his jeans.

Raising his head, Keith flashes that devious grin, before wriggling out from his grasp. Apparently, so he can free up his hand in order to move it to his other cheek, kneading them both with more pressure.

Which is— _yes_. So very _yes_.

Lance muffles his next groan into his neck. He can’t take much more of this teasing, and he alleviates some of the edge by biting upon the soft, tempting flesh there, all while roaming his hands over the taught planes of Keith’s stomach. Slipping his fingers the tiniest bit under the hem of his shirt, because why not.

He’s rewarded by the melodious sound of Keith whimpering, and then there’s fingers that trail around to his crotch, palming his eager erection.

Soothing the bite he made with a flick of his tongue, Lance slides his lips up until he gets to Keith’s ear. “Wanna blow this joint?” he offers.

Keith only answers by grasping tightly around his wrist. Dragging him through the crowd with purpose, without a single word. The people they pass are nothing but mere blurs upon hazy blurs now. A whirlwind of color, of lights and sound that Lance could care less about.

He’s going home with the hottest guy in the bar. The hottest guy at the Garrison—well, sans maybe Hunk and Shiro. But to be fair, they’re probably all on the same level, just with different highlights of sexiness.

And there’s no doubting which part of Keith he likes most, Lance thinks, giving a playful smack to his backside once they reach the outskirts of lingering dancers.

Keith turns on him in a flash. Shoves him hard against a nearby wall. Kisses the breath right out from under his lips.

Lance hums approvingly, creeping one of his legs around to rub against Keith’s. Slipping a hand under his knee, Keith levers it up higher, grinding their crotches as he works Lance’s lips open. There’s a tongue that pushes through immediately, and the heady taste of Keith overwhelms Lance’s senses. An odd mix of tobacco, whiskey, and just a hint of something sweet.

It’s the heaviest make-out session Lance can really ever recall having.

They’re still moving to the beat of the music. Tasting each other, getting a feel for what’s to come. Keith is relentless and focused, just like the way he flies, putting his all into besting him. Lance thinks he doesn’t really mind, if this is the way he wants to go about doing that from here on out.

They’re breathing unbelievably hard when they part, and Keith’s lips are painted an alluring, kiss-fucked red. Lance wants to pull him right back in.

But—

“We should go,” they end up saying at the same time. 

Bashfully, Keith lowers his leg, and shoves off him. He rubs his arm, glancing away. “Sorry, got...carried away.”

“It’s fine. Just, my friend is here. Might be weird if he walked by,” Lance explains, trying to see if he can spot Hunk, if he can even focus his eyes enough to make out that familiar form.

It’s useless. Hunk will just have to figure things out and find his own way back home.

“Mine, too.” Keith is craning his neck, much more nervously, as if he’s just realized that they’ve been putting on a pretty nice show for anyone who might have been paying attention. “He’ll kill me. He probably followed me down once he noticed I snuck out.”

With a frown, Lance tries not to focus too hard on what those words might mean.

“What is he, your keeper?” he snorts, with no small amount of jealousy.

“No.” Keith eyes widen as he looks over his shoulder, but he smiles, grabbing Lance without warning and pulling him around the corner. “He’s Shiro, a stickler for rules who’s standing right over there, so we gotta go.”

They take off quickly down a hallway, laughing, taking turns dragging the other. Keith is leading him somewhere, obviously familiar with the area in a way which Lance definitely isn’t, and he wonders just how many times Keith has had to escape from Shiro like this.

How many times he may have done this with someone else hanging off his arm.

They don’t get far before Keith turns on him again. They’ve ended up in a dark, tucked away corner, near a back exit. Absent of people, the backdrop of music but a distant echo.

And Keith doesn’t quite let him make it out.

His thumbs hint along the waistband of his jeans, fingers sliding under them, before taking Lance’s following moan as the green light to undo the fly. He’s tugging him out of his boxers before Lance can voice any concerns about doing something like this in a still very public place.

He’s positively shaking when Keith drops to his knees, scrambling for purchase on the wall as he takes him between his lips. There’s something doubly exciting, something unbelievably dirty and forbidden about doing this in a place like this.

Where anyone could find them. Where anyone could see them together.

Lance has never done anything like this before. He’s never picked up anyone who was this eager to go down on him that they couldn’t even make it to a bed first.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, he’s barely able to stifle the incredibly loud moan as it tears from his throat. Keith hums around him, and the vibrations add to the heat, to the smooth glide of his lips as they work over his cock. Up and down, the head pushing further and further towards the back of Keith’s throat with each small roll of his hips that Lance can’t help but make.

Within the thick of it, Lance threads his fingers in the strands of his hair without a second thought. Yanking on them, when Keith raises a hand to cup his balls.

It causes Keith to groan, eyes flitting up to stare at him as he slides forward on his shaft.

Somehow, Keith looks even better like this, gagging as his cock hits just a little too far back.

“Shit, sorry,” Lance whispers between his fingers, “Shit, shit, shit.”

Despite the minor hitch, Keith doesn’t stop. He swallows around him, pulls off and slurps back over the head faster and more mind-blowing than before.

Lance is on the brink when he turns him around so fast the ground lurches beneath him. He whimpers loudly, hands slamming into the wall, pressing his hips in quick where they can get friction by rutting into it. His boxers are dragged to his thighs, and Lance muffles a scream into the brick as something wet and warm slips between his cheeks. Sinking, into his hole. With hands gripping his flesh, pulling him apart.

“Ah, ah, more, more.” Lance clutches, scratches at the wall. “Don’t you _dare_ stop.”

There’s a pull, a tightening of Keith’s lips as they form into a smile. “Don’t think you’re in a position to be making any demands,” he says, hot breath puffing out in a way that makes his hole twitch.

In the seconds that follow, Keith is sucking, circling his rim. Lapping around and in, teasingly. And Lance is close, too close, but yet so far away at the same time.

It’s not enough, and Keith just _knows_.

When Lance’s voice begins to rise to a dangerous level he can’t contain anymore, the bastard turns him around again. Nuzzles his nose against his cock, before resuming sucking it into oblivion. He’s bringing him over the edge before Lance can recall what words are to warn him, can even calm the euphoria of orgasm as it hits him like a truck slamming straight into his face.

There’s no time for him to catch his breath. No time for him to think about the way Keith didn’t even flinch when he swallowed it all.

Keith draws him in for another kiss, sloppy and wet. Lance can taste himself on his tongue. His fingers find Keith’s waistband, stalling in action on it.

“Let me,” Lance insists, breathing still raspy and uneven. He swallows, hard. “Please.”

But Keith is pulling away, prying his hands from his pants.

“Not here. There’s a motel nearby. You know, uh.” Lowering his gaze further down, Keith draws a gloved knuckle across his lips. “If you want.”

Oh, Lance _wants_.

 

* * *

 

Liquid courage only goes so far without consequences.

Lance just wishes he’d realized that before he’s being pressed into an unfamiliar mattress.

His stomach is turning now, the carbonation of too much beer sloshing around in it angrily, and seeing Keith half-naked above him isn’t helping. By nothing short of a miracle, he keeps his nausea under wraps. The thought of losing it at this point is honestly the most embarrassing thing ever.

There’s a part of him, whispering in the back of his mind, reminding him that he’s waited for this moment for far too long to mess it up before it even starts.

It doesn’t take long to discover that teasing is just something Keith must really, _really_ enjoy, because he’s been torturously grinding their clothed erections together for what feels like ages. Smiling, sweating over him, with Lance’s wrists tightly pinned to his sides.

It’s a grip he’s not sure he could actually get out of, even if he wanted to. Keith is stronger, much stronger than he’s ever imagined. The first thing he did when they got there was pick Lance up, and throw him onto the bed. Pulled his shirt over his head, divested Lance of his own, and the rest was well—

Slow, slow history.

He’s underestimated how all this was going to play out at an unimaginable level.

“You know, I’m hard again. You—you’re, y’know, really hot. Don’t really have to do all that much,” Lance pushes through the grit of his teeth, “It was back by the time we walked through the door.”

“I know.”

Keith leans down to kiss him, and Lance gets a strong whiff of the liquor on his breath before he’s stealing his away. For the millionth time, he rolls his hips back down. Grinning, like a maniac. Lance’s head snaps back, he rattles off a moan.

Running his tongue along his pulse, Keith sinks his teeth in once he reaches his collarbone. Littering bite after amazing bite over his chest, he flicks his skilled tongue over one of Lance’s nipples, giggling as it quickly pebbles under the touch.

He’s raising Lance’s arms slowly out, from his sides to over his head, making it easier for him to arch his back and push forcefully down. Rutting into him, dropping his head and releasing the breathiest, little whine.

“Can feel it. And it feels _good_.”

“Tell me what you _want_ ,” Lance demands, squirming beneath him. “Tell me what I’ve got to do to end this.”

Keith reveals his intentions with an infuriating, flippant shrug. “Want to hear you beg.”

Lance thrusts his hips up roughly, impatiently, because two can play at that game. “Fuck, man, why didn’t you just say that in the first place? Please. _Please_ , just do something else.”

Keith releases his wrists, and in the next second Lance is clawing at his back, dragging his nails down as hard as he can.

“Just fuck me, or let me fuck you, or Hell, I’ll do anything at this point, just _please_ , Ke—”

Finally, Keith prompts him to flip over, onto his hands and knees. Lance does it quicker than he’s ever done anything in his life, though his motion is becoming clumsy, the heat of intoxication and Keith making him twice as dizzy. When he slips during the process, he wants nothing more than to shut Keith up as he laughs at him.

“Good boy.”

The amusement drips clear through Keith’s voice. He gives his ass a nice, rewarding swat.

Yeah, Lance is in way over his head.

Too bad that’s just the way he likes it.

Keith runs leather encased hands down his back, slipping over the notches of his spine. Slides them down to his ass, squeezing. The fabric drags a friction upon his sweat prickled skin that makes him keen, makes his cock twitch in interest. Screwing his eyes shut, Lance breathes deeply in and out, blood rushing in his ears as he wonders what Keith might have in store for him.

“Hey, I meant to ask earlier, but...” Keith says, a soft hum against his neck, “What’s your name?”

That question turns Lance’s stomach much differently than the alcohol. Who is he kidding, though. As if he could ever be someone to catch Keith’s eye in any way but like this.

“...Lance.”

Keith nips at his earlobe. “I'm Keith.”

Before Lance can think better of it, he's stupidly blurting, “I know.”

The hands working open his fly, pause. He can't see Keith's face, but he can feel the way he tenses, just the slightest bit.

Lance inwardly curses himself for his booze loose lips, because yeah, that sounds creepy. Definitely creepy when Keith obviously doesn't recognize him, and now probably thinks he's some stranger who's been stalking him.

“Cargo pilot,” Lance says hurriedly, “I'm a cargo pilot! For the Galaxy Garrison. We...share a few classes.”

There’s nothing different lying in his tone when Keith responds with a simple, “Oh.”

“Sorry, if that’s weird, we don’t have to—”

“No,” Keith says, popping the button of his fly, “It’s—it’s fine.”  

There’s a moment of silence, in which Lance is all too aware of how hard his breath is rolling out of him, of how turned on he is. Of how he’s never been turned on this badly by anyone in his life before, ever. His neglected cock is throbbing, swollen and beading with precum, and it hurts in the best way possible.

Then, Keith is speaking again. Quietly, as he fishes a hand into his boxers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner, Lance. Sometimes I don’t...really pay attention to things going on around me.”

He’s drawing his fingers along the edge of his jawline. Pushing down his pants with the other. Keith turns him right back around, because he must have other ideas.

What Lance finds lying in those sad eyes staring down at him, is regret. The honest truth that Keith is genuinely frustrated with himself. Tipping up Lance's chin, he looks apologetically into his eyes, and Lance can’t help but instantly forgive him.

“Not sure how I could miss a pretty face like this, though.”

Lance licks his lips. Pulls in a shaky breath, laying his hands upon Keith’s hips.

“Make it up to me?” he suggests.

Keith smiles. He more than just does.

They find condoms and lube in the bedside drawer, but in this shady part of town, Lance isn't really surprised by it. Keith undresses the rest of the way with zero shame and little finesse, his cock bobbing out when he peels off his boxers, red and wanting as it strains towards his stomach.

He's gorgeous, hipbones and abdomen lined with a definition Lance could only dream to ever have. His ass is perfectly curved and smooth, and he wants to feel it under his grasp.

Wants to feel it on his face, wants to feel what it would be like to slide between those cheeks.

The confidence in Keith seems to wane when he notices Lance staring, as he clumsily fiddles with the packaging. His eyes are darting between it and Lance, his lip drawn tight between his teeth. But Lance curls a hand around his neck and pulls him down for another kiss, working the courage back into him with his lips.

Lance would be a liar if he didn’t admit that he’s nervous himself, watching with bated breath as Keith slicks his fingers up, looking like he's about to slide one into himself as he moves his hand behind him. The thought of being inside him, the thought of driving into Keith and seeing all the ways in which he can make him beg, make him moan or scream his name—

Lance isn’t prepared. He wants to, but it’s all happening too fast, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he hasn’t cum untouched just by seeing Keith naked alone.

Keith is touching him, gently now. Rubbing his thigh in soothing circles, like he can see in the lines of his face about how apprehensive he suddenly is. Lance relaxes under the touch. Turns into nothing but a pliant and loose-limbed mess, enjoying being completely at Keith’s mercy.

He hasn’t taken those gloves off yet, and Lance eyes them, pleading with his gaze for Keith to do anything he wants so long as he keeps them on.

With an almost tender amount of restraint, Keith plants a few kisses across his jawline. The warmth, the softness of the gesture has Lance letting out a desperate noise that’s unlike him. He can only hold another dying moan in his throat when Keith shimmies up his body, resting his ass over his abdomen, and reaches instead to drag one slick finger over the rim of his hole.

Circling it, testing the resistance as he pushes the barest amount in.

“Oh.”

Lance automatically spreads his legs wider to accommodate his hand, disbelieving that this is actually happening. Keith’s cheeks are pressed perfectly snug around his cock, and his hips jerk, the pressure and sensation of friction incredible—also, incredibly frustrating.

This—now _this_ is a direction he can happily, eagerly go along with.

“Oh _, god_.”

“This okay?” Keith asks, brows knitting in this cute way that reminds Lance of watching him trying to solve a problem during class.

He slides his other palm along Lance’s stomach and then over his chest, which feels warm and soft, with an edge of roughness as the leather catches over one sensitive nipple. Steadying himself over him, Keith keeps him locked tight in place, even as Lance arches sharply into him.

“Oh, yeah.” Lance gulps. The shadow of Keith’s hair is fanning into his face, tickling Lance’s neck as he bends forward. “Oh, _hell_ fucking yeah.”

As he wriggles in a probing finger, Lance watches Keith’s arm disappear further between his thighs. Pushing, slowly but surely, as he straddles over Lance's waist. Lance isn't sure what to do besides whisper about how beautiful he looks, and place his hands on his ass, trying to channel the tension of gradually being filled by kneading whatever his hands can manage to hold.

Lance is biting his lip in no time, toes curling, breath hitching. Keith's prettily flushed, eyes sparking in interest as Lance presses a curious finger just outside where Keith’s are beginning to thrust harder and faster. Beginning to search, spreading inside him, for that spot that will send him preemptively into the stars he’s always wanted to reach.

The heat of himself, is invitingly wet and warm. Lance groans, low and long, wanting to feel what it would be like for the thick of Keith’s cock to be inside him.

“Come on, baby, come on,” Lance coos, canting his hips. “Fuck me already, Keith, I can take it.”

Keith shudders. Plants a forceful, bruising kiss on his lips as a shocking current runs through them both. He pulls back hurriedly to slip the condom over his cock, and before Lance can blink, he's sinking into him.

“I’m going to fuck you so good,” Keith murmurs as he leans towards his ear, hands settling on his shoulders, “you’ll still be screaming my name during simulation runs tomorrow.”

“ _Jesus_.” His cock twitches at that promise, pulse jumping as Keith pushes himself completely in, and he’s never felt so full and complete. “P-please do.”

After all the teasing, after all the filthy advancements both of them have made over the night, Lance is expecting this to end in nothing but a dirty, quick, rough fuck. Is expecting nothing more than to be used and abused as a hole with little to no worth to Keith.

Part of him desires that more than anything, while the other part of him aches at the thought. A double-edged sword that swirls a confused sort of nausea right back up in his gut.

But Keith doesn’t treat him like that. He doesn’t treat him like anything other than something to be treasured, and Lance hates it.

Hates it, loves it.

After the first thrust in, which he holds as he stares almost intimately down at him, Keith begins to move their positions. Begins to guide Lance to his side, and slips behind him, hooking an arm under his leg and bending it towards his chest. Spooning him, like they’re lovers who just woke up after spending a long night blissfully sleeping in each other’s arms.

Never having been in this position before during sex, Lance flicks his gaze to the ceiling, mouthing a prayer, because this is where his life is surely going to end.

They fit perfectly together.

Like a puzzle finally coming into place.

Keith rolls his hips, and Lance can feel him hit deep, deeper than anyone’s ever managed to hit before. With a gasp, he lets his head lull back into him, and Keith bites hard into his neck.

At first, Keith’s motions are slow and purposeful. Lazy, as if they really did just wake up, and Keith is fucking him back into consciousness. He acts like he has all the time in the world to be inside him. There’s a lot of exploring, curious touches. A hand, brushing back his bangs, creeping around to support his neck. Trailing from there to across his chest, circling his nipples.

Slipping one leg between his, so that his knee is pushing up against his balls, Keith starts dipping in and out at a more tilted angle, his chest hot and sweaty against his back. Lance gasps and whimpers softly, cock feebly spurting more precum.

The gentle swing of their joined hips reminds Lance of the dance floor, reminds him of the way Keith moves like fire rapidly spreading through a dry forest.

Fire, that’s now spreading through his whole body. Burning him, consuming him from the inside out.

“Shit, you look good like this.” Lance can barely make out the words as they’re pressed against his heated skin, his entire body jerking as Keith finally thrusts harder. “This angle, you’re perfect. Can see and touch all of you.”

The changing pace from slow to suddenly fast makes Lance feel like part of his body is floating away, like he’s reaching a transcendental state. His mouth falls into a silent scream. Keith’s hand is creeping forward to his cock, his arm still supporting beneath his leg, and it stretches Lance in a way that hits directly on his prostate.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Lance cries, clenching tight around him, his hands coming to twist themselves into the pillows. “Oh fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, that’s _it_.”

“Fuck, you’re flexible,” Keith groans, grasping his shaft, his teeth grazing intermittently over his shoulder and neck.

Laughing through a moan, Lance unfolds his leg out across his chest and spreads himself as far as he can go, because Keith hasn’t even seen half of what he’s capable of. It slips Keith deeper into him, which neither of them are really prepared for. There’s a sharp hitch of breath at his ear, a twinge deep inside him as Keith’s cock twitches suddenly, letting him know he more than likes what he sees.

“Feels good, so tight,” Keith sighs, right as the girthy head of his cock rubs over the edge of his prostate. “Could fuck you all day.”

The leather of his glove is indescribably pleasurable, like hot velvet as it’s dragging over the leaking head of his cock and pulling up his foreskin. Lance’s vision begins slipping in and out of focus, and he pushes back experimentally, meeting Keith’s rhythm. He’s proud to hear the animalistic growl Keith lets out, proud that it causes him to pick up his pace to an unimaginable speed.

“Harder, harder,” Lance begs, “Please, please.”

Keith draws his lips back to his ear, pulling on his lobe while gripping him harder and timing his strokes with his thrusts. Shifting from lying completely down, Keith raises himself somewhat, twisting Lance so that his chest is pushed towards the mattress.

His other hand slams between his shoulder blades, using it as leverage to drive down into Lance without mercy. Thrusts over and over, singing praises into his ear.

Lance is screaming at that point, his own voice ringing loud in his ears, matching Keith as he groans and grunts behind him. The squelching of it all is wet and filthy, adding to the noise, and the heat of feeling so unbelievably full. Keith’s cock is thick and tight inside him, hitting all the right places.

“Cum for me,” Keith commands, pulling almost all the way out until Lance can feel the tip crest against his rim, before slamming right back in. A hand cards into his hair, wrenching his head back, and a rush of endorphins adds to the climb building inside him.

“Come on, cum for me, Lance.”

He doesn’t have to demand more, because Lance is already coming the second Keith tells him to. He’s submitted completely to him, allows himself to be swept up in the euphoria as he finally reaches his release.

Lance manages to turn his head at just the right time, catching a glimpse of Keith’s beautiful face, which is screwed up in absolute bliss. With a low, quiet moan, Keith follows him not long after, overstimulating him to the point Lance thinks he might just get riled up all over again.

Keith lays inside him, breathing raspy and uneven at his ear, until he possibly can’t anymore.

“You good?” he asks, pulling out before he gets too soft, and Lance can hear the snapping of the condom being tied. Then there’s a palm, caressing over his hip, rubbing a thumb over where he’s surely stretched and swollen. “You were screaming so loud for a moment there that I was afraid I was hurting you. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Lance can only shake his head, can only croak a feeble, “‘M good. God, so good.”

Rolling bonelessly to his back while desperately trying to catch his breath, he gives a weak thumbs up, which Keith laughs at. He captures his mouth again, and Lance smiles into it, slipping his eyes shut. Pulling off not long after, Keith whispers against his lips, “That was so fucking hot. You’re really, really hot.”

“I...know...”

Lance can practically hear the raise of his eyebrows. There’s a derisive snort, a gentle shove to his shoulder.

“Cocky ass,” Keith mutters.

Lance has never felt this comfortable, this satisfied before. Exhaustion hits him fast, hits him hard. A fuzzy, hazy heaviness comes to rest behind his eyes. He’s curling up in the sheets, vision shifting in and out, unable to move. Vaguely aware at some level of Keith moving away and coming back, and then there’s the wetness of a rag dragging across his skin, cooling him, cleaning the drying cum from his stomach.

Helping him crawl under the covers, Keith comes up behind him again, wrapping a warm, reassuring arm around his waist.

With great effort, Lance lifts his head one more time, only to discover that Keith is watching him intently. Smiling back at him, when he sees the way Lance flushes.

Lance presses their lips together. Wishing, on some fragile whim of hope, that he could wake up to see Keith’s face like this everyday. Wanting so much more, but having no strength for anything other than folding into Keith and letting the warmth consume him.

They don’t say a word, just listen to each other’s receding heartbeats.

The last thing Lance thinks about, strangely enough, is that time is fleeting.

As fleeting as a song, playing in lilting beats on the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

When Lance wakes up, Keith is gone.

He stretches as he gingerly pulls himself up, head pounding, back and ass sore as hell. There’s a stickiness that still sits in him, which he relishes, because that’s all that Keith had the courtesy to leave.

Besides the charred, half finished cigarette in the ashtray. Which Lance stares at for a while, before he flips off the thing and forces himself to get up.

Everything aches. Aches in places he didn’t even know could ache.

He scrunches his nose in distaste as he pulls his pants morosely on, which reeks of alcohol. Reeks of wildflowers, and stupid, stupid smoke.

It only makes his head pound worse. Makes his gut turn like liquid fire, creeping up to his throat.

Stopping with his pants half-on so he can run to the bathroom to empty his stomach, he frowns at his reflection as he inspects it in the mirror on the way back. Runs his fingers along the marks lining his neck, grimacing at the thought of how much of a fool he is for not remembering to bring cover-up.

He glares and glares at himself.

“Stupid Keith,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Stupid me.”

Oh well, he thinks. At least he can say he got literally fucked by Keith Kogane, instead of just the way he fucks him over normally.

There’s no time to really sulk as he realizes he’s missed about half a day’s worth of classes, not to mention that he’s definitely going to get written up for not being in his barracks this morning.

It was worth it, though. He doesn’t regret what he did, just how attached he already is to the person he did it with. Things are going to be awkward now, because Keith was someone intangible, someone untouchable who was only to be admired from afar. Crossing that line was unimaginably stupid.

For all he knows, Keith has probably already made arrangements to transfer classes. Came back to himself in sobriety, and remembered that he’s nothing more than a mediocre cargo pilot who can’t even pass one simulation. The mediocre cargo pilot who often teases him, and still, Keith never remembers who the fuck he is.

While he gathers the rest of himself enough to face that bed that still lingers with the remaining scent of mullet and sex, something catches his eye in the mirror. Dark lines, right above the curve of his ass, that he can tell aren’t exactly love marks.

Lance blinks back the glaze over his eyes, willing the spinning of his head to stop so he twist around and lean in to read the words scrawled messily across his skin.

Slowly, he smiles.

‘ _see you in class, cargo pilot_

 _p.s. nice ass_ ’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The whole dance scene was inspired by the song ["Baby you’re bad" by Honne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2so1_ggVFbw), which if you want, you can imagine they were dancing to. Though I’d say [“Just Dance” ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4sVmu-XXpk) by the same artist was a close second source of inspiration. I originally meant for this to be the prelude to [mi corazón](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596552), but decided against it because i wanted them to immediately have dirty hot impromptu sex whoops


End file.
